


bigger on the inside

by amatchforyourmadness



Series: you may not be around (I am the only one now) [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Hospitals, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Overdose, Sick Klaus Hargreeves, have been obsessing over this idea for over a year and here we go, hey it's me your girl, im not dead yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amatchforyourmadness/pseuds/amatchforyourmadness
Summary: Klaus’ first ride to the hospital after a bad batch introduces him into an overdose experience.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Lucifer, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Original Male Character(s), Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: you may not be around (I am the only one now) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636279
Comments: 14
Kudos: 208





	bigger on the inside

**Author's Note:**

> TW: overdose, death, drugs, vioence, neglect, hospitals.
> 
> Work heavily inspired on the r/NoSleep story "What Happes When The Stars Go Out", that you can check out in this link here: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6ws8rk/what_happens_when_the_stars_go_out/
> 
> The title of the work comes from the song of the same namesake, also a huge inspiration to it, Bigger on The Inside by Amanda Palmer! I recomend you check it or listen along while reading!

Breathing was becoming a difficult, hard struggle against his ribs that Klaus could really only think of as overrated. Did he really need oxygen that much? The loud sirens of the ambulance weren't much help to the ‘staying alive’ argument either.

His mind is fuzzy and can't comprehend the stimuli his eyes harnessed from the world around him, all urging words and blue and red flashing lights as he was lifted from the ground by two pairs of strong hands and set over a slightly better surface. He was so hot. Why is he so hot? It’s autumn, for crying out loud, his skin shouldn't be burning like that. His mouth must be running off without his consent though, because the EMT by his side kept replying to things he wasn't aware he had said, promising him that things would be okay even if everything about the situation begged to differ. He seemed kind when he was close enough for him to make out his features; his eyes were warm and conflicted and Klaus was urging to hold his hand and say ‘don't worry, darling, I'd never die such a lame and easy death’ but he can't, because he's hot and dying.

“This is the forth junkie just in the past hours, do you think there will be more?” The other EMT says, lighthearted about the matter as if he's talking about rainy weather and how many more days does his coworker things the clouds can pour themselves over. “Fucking hell, this guy is light as a feather!" He exclaims as he lifts up the stretcher to push him into the ambulance. Kind Eyes is already inside, waiting, sorting a dozen different things that might save him no matter how little he wants to be saved. “No wonder he seems like he could be snapped in half like a twig, I don't know how this guy is alive!”

“John, would you mind talking shit later when we're not trying to save someone's life?!” Kind Eyes isn't kind anymore, he sounds exasperated. John is just saying the truth, Klaus figures but if Kind Eyes elected John is an asshole, then he's an asshole.

“Don’t get all righteous almighty on my ass, David.” John barks back but doing as he's told, climbing onto the ambulance and closing the door, shuffling to his seat on Klaus another side when Kind Eyes bangs for the driver to go before he falls on his ass. “I mean, look at the guy! Is not like he has much _time_ —

— _travel is something entirely different._ ” _His father says, shutting down Five's idea, but his brother doesn't waver his determined eyes and Klaus glances scaredly to Diego and Ben before turning to Vanya, willing her silently to stop him before Father punishes him. He's not sure if all his siblings have a mausoleum but he doesn't want to find out._

_Five stomped his way out and Klaus suddenly finds no appeal on the freshly rolled blunt that hangs from in between his fingers. He wants to ask him where's he going and, if he's leaving for good, if he could take him along. He knows he's annoying and that Five finds him particularly infuriating, but he can behave and shut up as long as he doesn't leave him back there with his father screaming, angry and loud. Why won't he look back and see that he's begging at this point?_

_He doesn't look back and he doesn't come back._

_Klaus pretends not to see Vanya’s sandwiches, Ben’s melancholy when reading alone, Allison's eyes always shifting towards the empty bedroom, Diego’s growing protectiveness over those who remained or how Luther's plans are unbalanced without their brother’s input._

_Hargreeves commissions a painting and calls it a day. That proves to be all the mourning he's going to do._

_Klaus tries to be stronger, cause fewer problems, do as he's told, smokes his weed while sat on Five's window after stealing his hidden Jack Daniels from it's spot under the tile because he missed him, but he's angry and the asshole can suck it._

_Why did he even had to—_

_— go!”_ Kind Eyes (Daniel. Or was it David?) screams, already grabbing at the edge of his stretcher ready to pull him up and out of the ambulance. Klaus thinks he's glad because in here is fucking hot and noisy and he's a bit of a claustrophobe (or was it klaustrophobe? Ha. He was hilarious). “Hang in there, man. I know it sucks.”

True to his word, he pulls the stretcher up and so does John, already out and on the pavement, and Klaus takes in the sight of the starry night above him, stretching for as long as an ant, hot and cold and floating and drowning on the sight. He wants to be as big as the sky, he wants to reach up and touch the sky and be as darkly bright as the night, not a pretender that dresses in the plain back and drowns the light he has left with bottles and pills and smoke and needles.

When they lower his stretcher to the ground, David trips and the end in which his head rests over shakes abruptly when the wheels crash against the concrete hard and Klaus whimpers in both pain and dismay when his mind spins and his eyes lose focus of the grand majesty of the night and he's pushed away from the cool air and dragged into the white monstrosity of the Hospital, under a heavy string of curses from John and numerous hushed apologies from David. He protests tries to beg them not to take him in there, but he must be making no sense because they don't understand.

“Crowded.” He tries to choke out, fighting against his strains, trying to run from them into the next dark street that can offer him shelter. “It's too crowded.”

They don't understand, they don't understand, they don't understand and he's pass the glass doors and the ghosts— he can't see them, but they're loud around him and it's bound to be lots of loud ones here. He thinks he can hear them too. Fucking bad batch, makes him overdose but won't get the fuckers away properly.

They're wailing, they're screaming and Klaus is almost screaming too. 

“His heartbeat is through the roof!” John curses, calling for help as more EMTs and nurses crowd around him. “Call a doctor! Carol, get me Doctor Richmond! We need a doctor or the bastard is _not_ _going to_ —

_— make it”_

_Klaus looks up at Luther who, in his turn, looks down at him with the look one would fix to an unruly child who throws fits and acts obnoxious for no good reason and Klaus wants to punch him across his face and tell him he isn't shit, so he can stop acting like he's holier than any of them or the others. He's shit. Absolute shit._

_“What?” Klaus spits out of the question, eyes narrowing in reciprocated disdain, standing up in all of his thin, shivering, covered in cold sweat glory. “I won't make what?”_

_Luther doesn't like that reaction, straightening his back as he takes closer steps to him, and Klaus notices him noticing how he seems to be flinching and recoiling at random like drug induced spasms, and he inflates his little, not so impressive chest even more to prove a point that he is not scared of him even though he's very much scared of him._

_He's 16 now, but his growth has made him rival Luther in height if nothing else. He can glare right into his eyes and see Luther look back at his as if he's trying to recognize the stranger in his brother's skin, standing in the middle of practice room while trying to lift weights way too heavy for his thin and weak arms._

_“You won't be able to lift that. Not with how sloppy you're being in training. Or with anything else, really.” Luther says, sounding exhausted like talking with Klaus kills brain cells he's not willing to waste. He bends down and effortlessly picks up the weights he had been struggling with for the pat 15 minutes and throws it to a side of the room like it's a towel._

_“Stop!” Klaus pushes him, earning nothing but an arched brow. “I'm training, stop— stop fucking things up, Luther!”_

_“I’m the one fucking things up?!” He asks, face contorted in disbelief and his voice resounding with resented skepticism. “Me?!” His brother strides closer, heavy steps, tensed posture. It takes everything of him to not raise his arms and protect his fragile frame from a possible physical assault from their father's merry Number 1. "Klaus, you're high as a kite, it's 3AM and you're trying to pick up weights! You're going to wake the whole house at this pace and what for?”_

_He steps back, slithering out of a fight he knows he can't win, but his tongue won't disengage._

_“I want to see if I can!”_

_Luther snorts._

_“Well, you can't!”_

_“I have to!”_

_“What for?”_

_He is shivering, there is a faint blue glow to his hands and he can feel the cold swoosh of a new manifestation of a ghost. He can't bother by now._

_“Because I don't want to be the next one to—_

_— die_ , he's not!” David screams, continues running tests, running diagnostics, muttering soft words of comfort and encouragement just in case Klaus is awake enough to hear them, to take them to heart. He can hear them, but he doesn't take them to heart. His heart is too fast now, it wouldn't take anything, not while it pumps blood through him so violently it almost hurts. Still, he feels himself fade fast, amidst the racing heart, the cutting blood, the crowded room, the damn choking heat, the sweating, the lights, the machines.

He's drifting away, the tide is pulling him down. He's not sure he minds. Let him drown. It'll be quieter. Ben will be mad, but it'll be quieter.

“David, Richmond won't be able to come down soon enough!” John says, from the other end of the room. He's not touching Klaus anymore, he's not rushing around the room, he's not helping the occasional nurse that drops by to help David through the fight for his life. “It'll be at least fifteen minutes until she even gets to look at him. You know he's as good as dead.” He knows by his tone, John gave up. Klaus doesn't blame him.

“Not yet he's not,” Kind Eyes answer, and there's a strained, pained determination to his voice. Klaus wants to soothe it, but he's burning and he's in pain and he desperately needs him to give up and let him slide under. But David keeps moving, from one side to the other, restless and focused. “Richmond is coming, I know she is! I need to get his fluids up. I just have to keep him alive for—

_— fifteen minutes until Pogo figures out I'm out of bed and rats me out to Father, so make it worth it!” Klaus whispers, letting himself fall on his ass on his sister's bed, amidst the walls filled with actors and singers and magazines and tiaras and everything else that could even have an allusion to the great industry she wanted to be a part of so fervently._

_“I could do this in ten minutes.” Allison replies, smiling as she loops a cashmere like fabric around his neck, it is a lilac color that shimmers with the colors of the rainbow ever so slightly when she shifts it against the light._

_“Then take the five extra to give it an extra glow.” He says, wiggling his brows, hand tucking into his pants pocket to get a small glass vial and hands it to her._

_She chuckles and takes the dolar store bought foundation from his hand. It's three shades to light for him, but it was only 6 dollars and he cannot complain. He had more money, he could have bought a better one, but there were 4 blunts in the other pocket and he had already smoked through what used to be a 5th and it was so good to not have the creeps around corners, wailing their screams at him. And he still saved some money, still. Saved some for her._

_Allison doesn't comment about the shitty foundation or the smell of weed, she only smiles. Vanya doesn't like makeovers that much. She doesn't have with who to share this with. Enter Klaus._

_Klaus that would help her act through scripts she pulled from internet or magazines, that gave her reviews of her outfits, who stole mother's heels and skirts and dresses up and leaned ways to style her hair to favor her curls when Allison wanted nothing but straighten it like the other women in magazines, who would be loud and obnoxious so father would get mad with him and not upset with her and who had chocolate and hot pads ready once a month._

_He was a very good brother._

_Klaus who knocked five times on her door and asked for her to give him a makeover so he would know what being pretty like her felt like._

_“Will you miss me?" He asked, eyes conveniently closed as Allison brushes golden eyeshadow over his lids with a slightly prickly brush, but he's not about to complain._

_“What?"_

_Here's a list of things Klaus does not do:_

_1 He does not say 'I know you're running away tomorrow';_

2 He does not say ' will miss you';

3 He does not say 'Please, take me with you.'

_“When you become a movie star, will you miss me?”_

_She stops for a moment, and he opens his eyes. She looks vulnerable and touched and happy and he can't find I'm himself to resent her for taking all that bright potential and leaving this hellhole of a house._

_Here's a list of what Klaus does do:_

_1 He smiles, and lets himself be lied to;_

2 He tucks the too light foundation for him and definitely too light foundation for her on her bag, along with 20 bucks and hopes it will help;

3 He stays up all night and hears for her steps out of her room, down the stairs. He stands on his tiptoes on his bed and watches her through his window, wrapped around the cashmere-like fabric she gave him. He watched her leave, watches her disappear. She doesn't look back.

4 He goes to the movies every time there's a new Allison Hargreeves movie released. He's proud of her. He's hurt by her.

_“Of course I will.”_

_Here's what Allison does:_

_1 She leaves;_

2 She does not look back;

3 She makes it;

4 She never tries to reach him;

5 She's in ever screen and magazine and he cannot ignore her;

6 She does not miss him.

_“So?” Allison asks, hands on his shoulders as she leans above him, smiling brighter than any Hollywood star ever had as she glanced at his brother on the mirror. “How—_

_— is it?_ Is he stable?”

Oh. This must be Doctor Richmond.

David relinquishes his position to a nurse that offers to take his place, and he runs up to the doctor with chart in hands, discussing his condition in harsh whispers with the newly arrived raven haired woman.

“He’s slipping. Heart rate’s falling, breathing slowing. Not good. Mumbled something about being too hot earlier, but if anything his temperature is too low.”

Klaus fades, the heat floods on back in, he cannot make out what they're saying. It looks like a very passionate discussion on David's side, and firm and calculating from the doctor side, but it's abundantly clear from their body language that they hasn't yet _given up—_

_— hope!”_

_“It's no use trying to cheer me up, Klaus, I didn't make it.” She mumbles against her hands as they hide her face and the tears and the feeling of failure that weights her down and down and down._

_“I'm not trying to ch— Okay, I am trying to cheer you up, but I'm being honest!” He says, shaking her softly, an arm wrapped around her side and another splayed over his knee. “C'mon, Vanya, you're amazing on that violin. No one can play it better. The person who invented the violin has nothing on you!”_

_She's starting to smile, so Klaus gears up to turn his drama factor to eleven. His head tilts back and he puffs his chest like a small bird trying to make itself just a bit bigger, intimidating._

_“In fact, if those assholes don't take you in, I'll go there myself tell them they have no conception of talent and they can all kiss my ass, because my sister is amazing!”_

_“Please, don't ask them to kiss your ass, Klaus.” Vanya says, still against her plans, but with the snickering of a light laughter to her lips. “It's not going to help me, I can tell you that.”_

_“Well, but it's a lovely ass.” He says, leaning closer to her, until she laughs and immediately burrows her face on his neck, hugging him._

_He hugs back._

_He was never the best brother. He was never as close to Vanya as he should be. But if he could give her the support she deserved just this evening it would be a good start, right?_

_It was all about the good starts, the small starts._

_“Feeling better?” Klaus asks against her shoulder, brushing his hand up and down her spine._

_She nods against him, but doesn't speak._

_“Hm. And…?” He pinches her side, and gets a squeal in response, Vanya's trying to squirm away from his hands with a giggle. “Now? And now? And now? Does that feel better?"_

_“Klaus, no!” She wheezes, under his endless tickling. “This is unfair!” Vanya bends over herself, trying to protect herself, whining_ _in—_

_— protest.”_

“I don't care if he wants to protest!” the doctor snaps back. “You tell him to wait in the damn lobby like everyone else!”

The nurse accepts her orders and heads back out into the hallway. “I'm sorry, sir,” she says. “You can't see him until —”

“Until what?! That's my brother in there! That's my little brother! That's-” And then there's a scuffle of feet, and more shouts as a security guard drags the man from the wing, but he's putting up a fight for the sound of it. Dave pauses as he hears the shouts, and then his eyes well up a bit with tears.

“That's my brother!” Someone says. “Hey, that's my brother! Let me see my brother! Stop! Please— ”

_— stop!”_

_Diego's fingers raised as he commands him to be silent, and Klaus obeys. His ribs are bruised and he's paler and thinner than he's ever been. And Diego's leaving. And Diego didn't leave him. Because Diego is leaving with him._

_They stay silent, and Klaus listens intently, the steps near them. They're high heels. Walking about the kitchen, tidying up the place. Diego looks torn, but he cannot risk it._

_He tugs his wrist and open the door and he closes it and he doesn't say goodbye to Mom as he guides Klaus to his car, Ben floating behind them. He's carrying his neatly packed bag and one backpack he just threw a bunch of Klaus' stuff in as he whispered 'we're leaving'._

_“Sorry, I thought that was Pogo.” He apologizes, as he opens the car and throws their things inside, stopping to look at him. “You okay?”_

_Klaus nods, numbly. Because he can't believe it. He can't believe it someone's leaving and taking them with him._

_He's not being left behind._

_“Do your ribs still hurt? I asked mom to patch you up better than usual but if still hurts we can get a look on it back in the flat.”_

_The flat. They'll have a flat._

_“It's okay.” He whispers, and Diego motions him into the passenger seat and he obeys. “Do… Do you really want to do this?"_

_“Leave?" Diego asks, slamming his door and starting the engine. “Never been surer of anything in my life. The old man can fuck himself."_

_“No, not leave.” Me. Are you sure about me? “You sure you want me to go with you?"_

_Diego stops then, and looks at Klaus like he's grown a second head, or said he murdered JFK. Like he's an idiot. But Klaus doesn't know why, he should know people don't tend to take him with them. He's loud and addicted and a nuisance and—_

_“You're my brother.” Diego states, firm and serious and very much urging him to understand. “And that asshole doesn't care about you, he almost killed you plenty of times and he doesn't care that you're trying to kill yourself now. I'm not leaving you alone."_

_Klaus' eyes are still wide, but now they're wet and he's crying before he can think better of it. He's crying, and he's smiling and Diego is kind of freaking out and Ben is telling him to get his shit together._

_“Hey, man, it's okay.” His brother tries, patting his shoulder. They don't know Klaus will stay awake all night and worry and crave and cry. They don't know Klaus will leave because he won't drag Diego down with him. They don't it's better to leave Klaus behind. They'd don't know he's a black hole. “You're okay. I won't leave you. We're going home, a better home. Just—_

  
  


— get the charcoal, please? We don't have time.”

And they do; David and his kind eyes heavy with worry runs off to fetch whatever the hell is that and someone starts shoving stube down his nose, down his throat, down his stomach. It's not okay, thus is not okay. He gags but only so slightly, because his strength is still leaving him. And isn't this too bothersome? Wouldn't it be easier to just let him die? 

“I got it, I got it.” And here comes David, pushing the door open with his elbow before he finishes. Klaus almost feel lighter for the sound of his voice alone. “I have it, I'm here.”

“Alright!” John says. “Fingers crossed, people. Let's see if we can't save —

_— a psycho!”_

_“I would say I look very fashionable." Klaus huffs, waiting for Ben to brush the dirt off his knees before he turned and started to make their way to the donut place two blocks from there._

_“Well, I say you look like a psycho."_

_“Well, you don't know shit about fashion, Ben.”_

_They keep walking, keep snickering, keep laughing and joking and pretending they aren't neck deep in trouble, going out without telling a soul late into the night, alone through deserted streets._

_They have always been like this. Ben has always been the quiet, well behaved kid that would go along all the crazy plans Klaus put him up to. And Klaus, well… Klaus was using neon pants, a fishnet undershirt, a leather jacket and fingerless gloves, all adorned with their fair share of lace and spikes._

_Punk had seemed cool at the time._

_“I still don't get it." Ben complains, walking along the sidewalk, watching as Klaus tiptoed the fine line between the sidewalk and the actual street as if he was an acrobat with much higher of an obstacle. “We're risking a week long sit-down just to have some donuts."_

_“And coffee!” Klaus corrected him, shaking a finger that almost made him fall face first on the concrete._

_“You don't even like coffee."_

_“But dad doesn't either. And if dad hates something, then I'll be dammed if I don't like it.”_

_Ben stood back, staring at him, a smile on his lips but concern on his eyes. They knew what they were doing. The creatures under his brother stomach were getting harder and harder to control, and above all Ben didn't want to be a monster. So Klaus was determined to show him he wasn't_

_They were just kids. Kids who were dealt a shit hand and that just had to cope with it._

_“Stop frowning like that. You'll get wrinkles. They're terrible." He scolds, before the lights of the donut shop shine against the night on the end of the block. “Look! We're almost there!”_

_“Coffee at two thirty two in the morning.” Ben tried to complain, but he was still smiling, so Klaus only made a fist bump against the air and howled an excited:_

_“Here—_

_— we go!”_

And then there is thick, wretched black stuff funneling down that tube and down into his throat. He's desperate enough to kick one of his legs weakly against the feeling, but not quite strong enough to resist it. It slides down, hits bottom, and pumps, and pulses and Lord help him dying would be easier. His heart rate is erratic, breathing is erratic, hsi brain is erratic, he vibrates erratic energy and trashes and struggles as much as he can against the restraints, but all of his epic fight only ends up in a whimper and another weak kick.

David holds his leg, holds his hand, mutters words of comfort, more words of comfort and care than he heard in months. He holds him and asks him to please, please, please fight just a little more. Begs him not to die.

But Klaus begins to fade all the same, the spikes on the EKG slow to sporadic pulses, and the nurses slowly step back, slowly let go, slowly shake their heads and give up and flock to John's side. They all leave, everyone always leaves, until there's only Ben threatening him, hissing that he can't die, that he can't dare to die, and David, still clinging, still holding on for Klaus tight enough for everyone in the room.

“Call it,” Doctor Richmond says, mournfully, sadly resigned, and just then darkness swirls in and Klaus is fading.

The conversation carries on.

“Two thirty two AM,” one nurse says.

But David screams in protest and Ben sounds like he has been shot and they echo each other as they plead, a sequence of 'no's and 'he's not gone', 'there's still time, there's still time to save him, there's still…'

But David's wrong and Ben is wrong. Klaus is already gone. Their voice, and their faces, and the ghosts, and the wailing, and the sobbing and the thunderous voice on the hallway demanding to see someone, and Doctor Richmond's soft words - those things are all behind him as he passed, as he sinks. They fade away into the darkness that's consuming him, and swallowing him whole, and throwing him to the winds and pulling into a pool of fire and pain and agony and he cannot breath for the life of him that he no longer has.

And just when the magnitude of the situation dawns on him - then comes the heat. Monstrous amounts of it. It rips and tears and scorches and scalds, and he cannot scream and he cannot breathe and he was wrong being dead hurts more and his throat would be hoarse if he had a voice to scream. But then there is a new pain. A different pain.

A hand reaches out of the blackness, and it grabs his forearm with such mighty force that the resulting pain eclipses that of the heat, nails ripping and sinking through the flesh and then dragging him out, pulling out and into a brand new darkness, it is warm and oppressing an _d he's sinking and —_

_— suddenly he's somewhere else entirely._

_The darkness isn't gone but it wavers around bright flames that cast shadows on his feet, and the heat has only grown but he feels cold and empty like all that was him been devoured. There were nail-marks, he saw. Four deep, striping cuts beneath his inner wrist and down his forearm with a fifth on the side, in the shape of a hand. They were bleeding bled a bit._

_“Back so soon?”_

_Klaus almost jumped out of his skin, but the voice was smooth and melodical, inviting. He longed to look at the face of whoever had such a luring voice, so he stood up, slowly, and turned over shaky hands, holding his damned stinging arm against his chest._

_There was a woman there. Tanned, with red hair flowing down her back and along her movements, like the shampoo models on the TV ads. She looked properly beautiful, but not in a way he could pinpoint. Looking too closely to her features was tricky, like if she was always changing faces, different standards of beauty flicking through like a slideshow and then she raised her eyes._

_Amber. Deep, fiery amber. Like the fire around them, like the heat that had burned him alive mere seconds ago._

_“W-ho are you? W-what was that? That darkness? And the heat, and th-”_

_“It's where you would’ve spent your eternity, darling, had I not pulled you out.” The woman says, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as her red lips twist into a smirk that's this side of too amused and barely contained enough to not be deemed feral. “Suicide is a sin, after all. And frowned upon quite throughoutly.”_

_“What? Do you mean to tell me this is…?"_

_“Hell? Yes.” She waves a hand invitingly for him, and sudden in the edge of his vision there's a chair that wasn't there before, near the black boulder opal table she's working on. “C'mon take a seat. I have the whiskey you liked last time."_

_“So…" He starts again, taking the glass in his hands like it's poison (it just might be). “Are you, you know? The devil? Prince of Lies- Princess?"_

_“No formalities between us, baby." She says, waving her hand dismissively, before blinking up at him, and looking back down at her work. One of the papers is picked carelessly with the tips of her fingernails, and she hangs it by her side, only for flames to erupt from under it and a clawed hand reached to grab it and dissolve back into the floor and flames with it. “Call me Lucy.”_

_Okay._

_This is fine._

_This is okay._

_Okay._

_He looks around, trying his best not to freak out, but all he feels is unsettled. Because he knows this fanciful nothingness where they are. He's sat here before, he's sure of it. She mentioned a past time, that he liked the whiskey, she knows him and is comfortable with him and goddamit he's pretty sure the dick etched in the dark wood chair he's on is his handy work._

_“I've been here before, haven't I? More than once.” He asks, scared of looking up from the doodle dick on the left arm rest. Lucy (?) hums positively. “How come you keep letting me back?”_

_“You never stick, never chose to stay.” She says, giving a one sided shrug, like this is normal. Like it's no big deal. Klaus jaw is still slackened. He does not understand. “Can't say I blame you— pass me the red pen, please?”_

_He complies, meekly. The pen looks like it's made out of ruby and he almost doesn't want to let go, but when she twirls it around her fingers and finally uses it to cut a line against the paper, he smells the metallic stench of blood._

_“What's that?" He asks, voice still shaky, using his glass of whiskey to indicate the paper she's working through._

_“Hm? Oh, these are your tripmates.” She says, showing him the extensive list of names, at least 40, before pointing at number 4. “See? Here you are. Funny, right? Number 4 is the fourth on the list." She leans back against her chair, laughing delightedly. “Well, but this was a shit bash if you ask me.”_

_“These are people who…?"_

_“Died? Yes.”_

_“This means I'm dead?"_

_“For the time being.” She concedes, before indicating the ceiling with a pen, still not averting her eyes from her work. “See that?” His eyes follow, to glimpse his pale form on a stretcher, convulsing and weak. Ghosts and hospital staff are crowding him alike, and by his side there are Ben and David, both screaming, defending he's alive, that he'll make it, both way too close to crying. “That's you. First time I catch you in a hospital, and you already caused quite a scene."_

_Klaus keeps staring. Doctor Richmond, a woman with obvious pakistani descent is there, ordering the staff around like she's a maestro and they're all players trying to keep up with the rhythm she commands. One hand snaps to the right, to the door, where there's a commotion. Security is there, trying to push back a man that tries to barge his way in. 'You can't be in here, sir', she screams. 'That's my brother', the man screams back._

_Diego._

_That's Diego._

_“What's Diego doing there?” Klaus wonders, aloud, equal parts confused and touched as hso brother is dragged away, still kicking and screaming for him._

_By his body's side, Ben is crying._

_“He's your emergency contact.” Her tone is the tone one would use to talk to an idiot. Maybe he was, after all. He was his emergency contact. But Klaus never thought he would pick up. Much less show up. “As soon as his phone ringed at this hour of night, he knew something was wrong. He drove like a mad men to get here, just five minutes after the ambulance. He's pissed the whole staff by now.”_

_He watched his brother for a bit, and sure enough he grabbed a nurse, and asked her a frentic question that he couldn't hear. She said something pleasantly dismissive, though her eyes were shooting daggers as sharp as the ones Diego would throw at criminals, and freed herself from his grasp and looked away. He then leaned his head back up against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position, closed his eyes and curved over his knees, hiding his hands as he began to cry._

_“I had no idea he cared that much.”_

_“I'm sure. He's a tad emotionally constipated, isn't he? Can't blame him, with the father you lot had.” She lowers her pen, and dangles the 40 overdosed names to her left. The name on the 4th position is flickering, is fading. He does not understand. Fire, a claw, more fire. “Would you do the same for him?”_

_He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, and doesn't answer. Doesn't look up either. Doesn't want to. But the ceiling keeps on playing, like reality TV._

_“Okay. I get it. I fucked up.” He mumbles, still sniffling, still suppressing sobs, still trying to understand. “So now what? Fire pool for the rest of eternity? A side of torture? It's too late for me to go back up there. I'm already gone.”_

_Lucy snorts._

_"No, you're not." She says in the same tone Allison would use with him when he was being dramatic. But he wasn't. She had shown him. He was dead. He was gone. “Oh, there you go. Took your time this time. If I were you, I'd stick to coke." She sounds amused, too amused, and very much knowing. He frowns, confused, and looks down at his hand. They're translucent. He widens his eyes, this side of a panic attack and looks up to her but she's no longer looking at him, glass of wine in a hand and checking the list of names with the other. “Until next time, Klaus.”_

_And then Lucy was—_

_— gone,_ Dave. I'm sorry, okay? But I'm not gonna tell you aga-”

Klaus shoots upright then, before the doctor could finish the thought, gasping for air and wheezing, thin and awkward hands grabbing and scratching at his chest. There was a needle in the skin right above his left breath, a bolt of life to the heart, and David smiled tearfully in victory as the seancé's dazed eyes set over him.

“Well, I'll be damned.” John mutters, and flinches when one of the nurses slap the back of his head a tad too harshly. “Hey!”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, sir.” The doctor spoke, smiling kindly and warmly at him, like she meant her next words. “We're glad to have you.” Klaus nodded once, twice, and laid back apathetically as the woman turned around, towards the man who had most likely saved his life. “Good work, David. You made me proud.”

“You're a fucking idiot." Klaus eyes flicker upwards, and he sees Ben's face hovering above his, swollen with tears and his brows knitted together in worry and hurt, but he was smiling. He was relieved. Because he was alive. “You're the worst person I could be stuck to, because you're an asshole and an idiot.”

“Better than dead.” He whispers in response, a secretive smile making it's way to his lips as Ben chuckles through what sounds like sobs and shakes his head. His fingers twitch, because he wants to reassure his brother. He's here. He's fine. He's alive. He's better than dead.

“Hey there.” Kind Eyes, Daniel, David, Dave. The doctor had left and he returned to his side, hand holding his. Klaus blinked slowly, trying to understand the words and to take in the warmth and care of a complete stranger. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just snorted some crazy disgusting stuff.” David chuckled at the face he made, trying to get the last of the black slime from his tongue, before he managed the strength to squeeze the EMT's hand. “Hey.” Oh, he's definitely still high, if the way he's slurring his words is anything to go by. But he must still have his goofy smile at his side, because David smiles back. “I s'pose I should thank you for saving my life?”

He takes Klaus' bony hand and squeezed it, pausing for a moment when he saw scars on his arm, either from the fights on the streets, the fights on the Academy, needles or his own fingernails. Then Klaus thinks he sees long red striped along his forearm, like sharp nails had grabbed him there. He begins to frown, but that's when David decides to ignore it.

“Don't mention it.” The man says, chin resting against their interwined hands. “But if your really want to thank me, promise me something.” Klaus emits a non committing groan. He's drifting into a sleepy state again. His body demands he settle down so it can heal itself at least a bit. “Don't gamble with it again, okay? I worked really hard for you to keep it.”

Klaus hums something that can be interpreted however someone wants to, but means nothing to him. Pain aside, he wouldn't mind seeing Lucy again. He frowns, no. No, Diego was crying. Ben was crying. He couldn’t make them cry again. He shouldn’t.

He felt so tired.

“I'll call your brother in now.” David says, as his brain stars rocking from one side to the other, like if he was floating in the sea. Diego. He has to say to Diego he’s sorry. He needs to tell Diego he’s fine. Do any of the others know? He feels Ben sit by his side. He’s tired.“Rest a little, okay?”

He sinks in the charcoal black darkness, and it's warm.

His memories dissolve amidst it all.

**Author's Note:**

> FInally I have made it! This story has been haunting my mind since february, 2019. College and the many many orobkems in my life have been in my way to write this fic and to keep my other updated as often as I wanted, but I hope 2020 keeps well.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please give kuddos or comments if you feel like it and keep an eye out to new chapters of you'll be tearing me apart (sooner or later)!


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